The third day of the Guild War Trials arrived with the kind of dramatic energy normally reserved for over-budget arena dramas. Wind howled. Flags billowed. Somewhere, dramatic music probably played just for flair. We'd passed two rounds already—somehow—through a deadly combination of clumsiness, dumb luck, and Kaela's total refusal to let us die.
Today's event: the team battle arena.
Each registered guild would face another in an all-out skirmish inside a giant terrain-shifting coliseum. Magic fields. Random weather hazards. Roaming elemental beasts. The goal wasn't just victory—it was style. Bonus points were awarded for crowd entertainment. That meant fireballs, combos, and big shiny finishers.
Naturally, we had none of those planned.
Our opponents: a mid-ranked guild called "Nightshade Ember." Edgy cloaks, twin daggers, shadow wolves. The leader had a sharp grin and even sharper eyeliner. They looked like they practiced poses in the mirror.
"Don't underestimate them," Iris warned. "They're known for coordinated stealth strikes. Classic rogue guild."
"Then I shall counter with my greatest skill," I said, raising my hand dramatically. "Panic improvisation."
We stepped into the arena. It shimmered like glass under a dome of illusions. Forest to the left. Rocky cliffs to the right. Mist everywhere. And worse, dramatic lighting.
The match began with a loud gong.
The other team vanished. Just—poof—gone. Not even footprints left behind.
"They're using phased stealth tech," Iris said. "Advanced cloaking. Magical refraction combined with silent movement. Very hard to track."
"I can fix that," I declared, opening my System interface.
Copy Skill Activated: Shadow Cloak (Nightshade Ember – Rank B+)
I felt it instantly. The rush of shadows pouring over my skin. A sense of weightlessness. Cool. Mysterious. Dangerous. And—okay—maybe slightly sweaty. Why did stealth magic always feel like wearing moist socks?
"Guys, I'm invisible!" I whispered.
"No you're not," Kaela said, staring straight at me.
"I am to them, though."
"You're glowing purple," Lina pointed out.
I glanced down. My hands were outlined in a faint shimmering aura. Apparently, I hadn't copied the stealth right. Maybe because I said "fix" instead of "use?" Or maybe I accidentally used the "show-off" version.
Either way, I was now... visible to my team, but invisible to the enemies.
"I have a plan," I whispered.
"We're doomed," Lina muttered.
What followed can only be described as a stealth comedy of errors.
I attempted to flank the enemy by crawling under a giant mushroom log. A squirrel attacked me mid-crawl and I let out a scream that echoed across the arena. This alerted one of the Nightshade rogues—who charged straight at me with daggers drawn—only to trip over the same squirrel and faceplant into my elbow.
One point to me.
Then I ran—okay, flailed—through a misty patch of terrain and accidentally crashed into their illusionist, disrupting their camouflage spell. Their entire team shimmered back into visibility just as Kaela's boar companion came barreling through, launching two of them into a conveniently placed cactus wall.
Two more points to us.
I tried to yell a strategy, but forgot I was cloaked, so Lina spun and fire-punched me mid-sentence. I somersaulted into a cliffside, bounced, and landed behind their archer. Who, startled, shot a stun arrow directly into their own healer.
At that point, I think their team panicked.
I must've looked like a tactical genius. Every action unpredictable. Every stumble part of some larger mind-game. A whisper from the shadows. A living embodiment of chaotic counterplay.
"Who is this guy?!" one of the Nightshade members yelled before Iris froze time long enough for Lina to throw a fireball shaped like a smiley face.
Final score: "Linked Hearts" victory by technical domination.
When the match ended, the crowd went wild. I posed dramatically with my hand outstretched, still slightly steaming from residual fire punch. Someone actually started chanting "Harem King!" from the bleachers.
Back in the resting area, Kaela shoved a water bottle into my hands and muttered, "What are you?"
I shrugged. "I call it… weaponized failure."
Lina burst out laughing.
Even Iris smiled—just slightly.
Somewhere in the background, the leaderboard updated.
Linked Hearts – Rank Jump: Bronze Tier → Silver Tier
We were rising.
Not because we were the strongest. Or smartest.
But because somehow… the universe was allergic to our failure. And that, in a world full of calculated plans and power scaling, might just be our secret weapon.
END OF CHAPTER 35